But, whatever he said to the woman, there she was, presently, white mice and all, seated alongside of the writer, who could make a beggar or a baron at home with him, with equal ease, and in an equally short time. "You're obliged to me, I think, if I can trust to a pretty long memory," he said, handing her a glass of the spirits. "Ay; but it doesna need a lang memory to mind gi'en me this," she replied, not wishing any other reason for her obligation. "And you've forgotten the pirn scrape?" "The deil's in a lang memory; but I hinna," she replied, with more confidence, for by this time the whisky had disappeared in the accustomed bourne of departed spirits. "Weel, it's a bad business that at your auld freend's at D----," said he, getting into his Scotch, for familiarity. "Hae ye heard?" "Wha hasna heard? I kenned the lassie brawly; but I didna like her--she was never gude to a puir cratur like me." "But they say ye ken mair than ither folk?" said he. "Maybe I do," replied the woman, getting proud of the impeachment. "Hae we nae lugs and een, ay, and stamachs, like ither folk?" "And could ye do naething to save this puir woman, the wife o' a gude buirdly man, wi' an open hand to your kin, and the mither o' a family?" "I care naething about her being the wife o' a man, or the mither o' a family; but I ken what I ken." "And sometimes what ye dinna ken, when you tell the lasses o' their lovers ye never saw." "The deil tak their louping hearts into his hand for silly gawkies; if they werena a' red-wood about lads, they wadna heed me a whistle. But though I might try to get Mrs. S----'s head out o' the loop, I wadna like to put my ain in." "I'll tak gude care o' that," said the writer. "I got ye out o' a scrape before." "Weel than----" "And weel than," echoed he. "And better than weel than; suppose I swore I did it mysel'--and maybe I did; that's no your business--they wadna hang a puir wretch like me for her ain words, wad they, when there's nae proof I did it but my ain tongue?" "No likely," replied he; "and then a hunder gowden guineas as a present, no as a bribe----" "I want nae bribes--I gie value for my fortunes. If it's wind, wind is the breath o' life; a present!" "Would make your een jump," added he, finishing his sentence. "Jump! ay, loup! Whar are they?" "You'll get the half when you come into the town, and the other when Mrs. S----is safe. You will ca' at my office on Wednesday; and, after that, I'll tak care o' you. In the meantime, ye maun sell your mice." "Geordie Cameron offered me five shillings for them; I'll gie them to him." "No," replied the writer; "no to a _man_. Ken ye nae woman-tramp-will tak them, and show them about as you do?" "Ou ay; I'll gie them to Meg Davidson, wha's to be here the night. But whaurfor no Geordie?" "Never ye mind that, I ken the difference; and if Meg doesna give you the five shillings, I will." "Well, buy them yoursel'," said the woman.